


Happy Birthday, Ma'am

by Laurielove



Series: Melbourne Indulged [3]
Category: Vicbourne - Fandom, Victoria (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurielove/pseuds/Laurielove
Summary: It is Victoria's twentieth birthday and Lord M has not given her a present. But it's not too late to make amends.Pure Vicbourne explicit indulgence. Historical accuracy be damned!





	Happy Birthday, Ma'am

**Author's Note:**

> Champagne? Check.  
> Windsor court uniform? Check.  
> Moonlight? Check.  
> Oh, Lord M! Check.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think at the end. Go on, I dare you. x

The Queen held a ball at Windsor to celebrate her twentieth birthday.

She had grown wary of balls.

He didn’t like them. He rarely danced with her now. She knew why. People watched. People whispered. People speculated.

It bored him. He had had enough speculation to last a lifetime. She did not want to tire him with more.

And so she did not dance with him but was aware of every second he was there. She could feel his eyes on her as she danced. She smiled at her partner, but it was for him. She laughed as she was turned in another man’s arms. All for him.

Even in his silence, even in his solitude, he entranced her.

He was dressed as requested and it thrilled her. Never did he look more handsome. All her senior courtiers were dressed as she had demanded for her birthday ball, but none wore the court uniform as impressively as him. She smiled secretly to herself that her little conspiracy had paid off: the gold braid rose from a tapering point at his waist up to his broad shoulders. The dark blue set off his hair and the light in his eyes. It was as much as she could do not to throw herself at him. The uniform he wore so effortlessly made that familiar ache deep inside more pronounced than ever tonight. She danced with others but it was him on her mind, him she saw, him she moved for, spoke for, laughed for.

Victoria finished her dance with the Duke of Sunderland and turned, reaching for another glass of champagne. She eyed him over the rim. He was looking at her as always but averted his gaze when he noticed her eyes on him.

She approached. ‘Lord M. I am so very glad you could come tonight.’

He bowed a little and glanced to the side in that way he had. ‘I could not miss your birthday celebrations, Ma’am.’

‘You did last year,’ she stated flatly, taking a drink from her glass.

‘Last year was different, Ma’am.’ He avoided her stare and took a drink from his own glass.

‘Indeed.’ His eyes flittered to hers and once again she was lost in them. She took another drink to distract herself. He did the same.

Immediately, the next dance began. She wanted only to step into him and let him enclose her in his arms and hold her and turn her and move her. For a moment she wondered if it would be so dreadful if she did. For a moment, as he stared into her, she knew he was thinking the same.

But Lord Rothermere was at her elbow. And so instead she resorted to jealousy. Lord Rothermere was, apparently, the handsomest man at Windsor that evening. She turned to him, fixed him with a beaming smile and allowed his hand to curl around her waist. She threw a quick glance back at her Prime Minister as she was moved onto the floor. Lord Melbourne saw it, then looked away.

Victoria danced most of the night. Lord Melbourne did not, apart from one waltz with Emma Portman, which Victoria tried not to mind but did.

It grew late but Victoria was not tired. It had been a ludicrously hot day, and, although the castle’s high ceilings provided much needed coolness, she could stand it no longer. She turned, and, dismissing her mother, Lehzen and her ladies, who took it in turns to inquire after her, she left them all behind and took herself far beyond their gazes, turning through corridor after corridor until she came out onto a distant balcony, secluded and silent.

She stood, breathing in the heady night air. Perhaps it was the champagne, perhaps it was birthday excitement, but still her mind burned, her body was alert. She lifted her head to the heavens, seeking tranquillity there.

‘A beautiful night, Ma’am, don’t you think?’

She spun around to the voice and felt the immediate prance inside her.

Lord Melbourne stood, hands clasped behind him, looking out over the gardens before turning his gaze to her, awaiting her response.

‘Yes, Lord M. It has been wonderful.’

‘I was merely referring to the night sky. It is not often we see so many stars these days. Windsor still offers us that at least. The lights of London are so garish.’

She smiled ruefully. ‘One cannot impede progress, Lord M.’

‘Progress? I despair of it.’

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘That is possibly not a wise opinion to hold as Prime Minister.’

He took a step forward and leaned into her conspiratorially, whispering, ‘Don’t tell the Tories.’

She threw her head back and laughed. He approached further and stood beside her, tall, firm, his fine shoulders accentuated by the cut of the blue cloth. She was reminded potently of how handsome he was.

Victoria turned her head to look out over the dark lawns, their vivid green a ghostly, silvery grey in the moonlight. ‘It has been so very warm today. One can hardly believe it is only May.’

‘Practically June, Ma’am.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Yes. And now I am twenty. How very old.’

He laughed.

She turned to him, her mouth tickling with a self-conscious smile. ‘Why do you laugh, Lord M?’

He cocked his head to the side and added in consideration, ‘If you are old, Ma’am, then what am I? … Prehistoric?’

She smiled softly. ‘You are wise. I do not feel wise.’

‘And yet you have great wisdom, Ma’am. I have always known that. I have always sensed it.’ He lifted his head and smiled gently, but did not turn to look at her.

She kept herself facing towards him, knowing he would feel the integrity of her gaze on him. ‘If that is so, then it is thanks entirely to you.’

He drew in a breath but remained staring out over the lawns. ‘It is my greatest honour to serve you, Ma’am, and to provide you with what you need to succeed.’ He dropped his head. ‘And on this occasion, that means I owe you an apology.’

She frowned, bewildered. ‘An apology? Whatever for, Lord M?’

‘I have brought you no gift.’

‘Gift?’

‘For your birthday. Last year I gave you –'

‘The telescope.’

He smiled to himself. ‘You remember. I am flattered.’

She laughed aloud. ‘Of course I remember! I keep it in my bedside cabinet!’ Victoria had spoken too soon and dropped her head in embarrassment. ‘It was a … a very thoughtful gift.’

Now he was the one looking at her while she resolutely avoided his gaze. ‘I am glad to hear it, Ma’am, but I must insist on apologising, for I regret not having yet been able to find something for this year.’

She sniffed out a slight laugh. ‘Well, I must say … I do not exactly need anything. My needs are - how to put it? - catered for quite adequately.’

‘Are they, Ma’am?’

‘Well, yes, I think so … I do have an awful lot of … things.’

‘Being Queen of England helps in that respect, one imagines.’

She smiled slyly at him and he returned it. ‘You are a dreadful tease, Lord M.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am.’

‘I like it.’

He paused briefly and an indulgent smirk passed fleetingly over his lips. ‘I know, Ma’am. I am happy to oblige.’

They fell silent, but eventually, with a calmness propelled by sincerity, she said, ‘Perhaps there are one or two things which I lack, however.’

He turned to her, curious. ‘Oh?’

‘Sometimes … I would only admit to you, Lord M … I feel quite … alone.’

He did not respond.

She continued openly. ‘My dear Lehzen, my beloved mother … even my ladies … they are not the true companions I desire.’

He did not at first respond and when he spoke there was a disengagement in his tone she clearly detected. ‘No, Ma’am. I believe the companionship you speak of comes with a husband.’

She sucked in a deep breath. ‘But I do not have a husband, Lord M.’

‘You will one day, Ma’am.’ Again, he sounded oddly flat.

She paused briefly and then stated her truth. ‘But I am lonely now.’

There was a pause in which only the sound of their existence could be heard. ‘Ma’am …’

She turned to him and waited for him to meet her eyes before saying, ‘When I say I am lonely, that is not exactly true, Lord M, for I am never lonely … when I am with you.’

For a moment, there with the expanse of the beyond waiting for them in the moonlight, she thought he would take her, run with her, remove her from it all. Oh, he could, he should! But instead, he moved his eyes from hers and took a step back. ‘Ma’am, it is late. I must retire … and so should you.’

Perhaps it was the champagne, perhaps it was the moonlight, but Victoria had no intention of retiring. She was here now, older, wiser, and alone with the man she adored. She took another step into him and released a flirtatious energy. She cocked a pretty eyebrow and said with brazen boldness, ‘You cannot order me about, Lord M. I am now twenty. I have shaken off the shackles of youth. I can say what I want, think what I want … and desire what I want.’

He swallowed. She saw his Adam’s apple jolt along the elegant line of his neck.

But he did not leave her and her boldness only grew. She gave a little moue of her mouth and closed the distance he had put between them. ‘I admit, Lord M … I am a little disappointed that you have not been able to find me a present.’

He inclined his head but did not step back. ‘Like I said, Ma’am … I apologise.’

She paused briefly and then said, low and deliberate, ‘Perhaps you could think of a gift to give me now?’

He glanced to the side. ‘Now?’

‘Yes. Now. Here.’

His hands rose to the side in defeat. ‘I have nothing about me.’ And again he did not step away.

She was undeterred. How glorious it felt. Was this seduction? How delicious it was! How exhilarating! ‘Oh, but you do. You see, I have come to realise that, sometimes, it is best not to let life pass you by, and to simply take while you can. Do you understand?’

He said nothing. It was enough.

She glanced inside the castle for a moment. The sounds of the court were distant and self-absorbed. Nobody knew they were here. She whispered her thoughts into him. ‘They are sleepy with wine and heavy with the heat, they have no idea we are together. No idea we are here. Here. Just you and I and the stars on my birthday.’ She took another step into him, so close now that only their breaths could separate them. She turned her head up to his. ‘So I ask again … What gift do you have for me, Lord M? For I will be very disappointed if my Prime Minister is not able to give me anything on this day of all days. What can you –’

And before she could speak another word he had caught her in his arms and silenced her with his mouth.

And all those yearnings and dreams and imaginings were here and real and now. Immediately, she curled her arms around his neck; immediately, she clung to him; immediately she thrilled to the feel of his strong hands pulling her against him.

His lips were warm and assured and kissed her firmly. Closeness, togetherness. It was hers. The blood began to dash through her veins, and that knot inside, always present when with him, awoke and stretched itself, almost upending her.

His hands rose to cup her head, angling it to better attend to her. His breath came hard through his nose and made her dizzy with the beauty of it.

When at last he pulled back, only a little, he held her close to him, cupping her chin in his fingers, running his thumbs over her face, searching her eyes.

‘Again.’ It was all she could say. How could she not have more?

And he did. With barely a pause, he caught her lips on his own again and this time moved them, parting them the slightest amount so that he breathed into her and she breathed back, sighing against him, murmuring, moaning. He dragged his mouth away from hers only to plant hot, damp blessings over her face, moving on her with an almost desperate need. She closed her eyes and he kissed the shut lids; she lifted her head and he kissed her exposed jawline.

His right thumb rested in the soft, tender spot just under her chin where the ear joins it. He began rubbing there, gentle little circles with the pad of his thumb, but enough to make her whine with longing. And at the same time, he kissed down her neck, breathing warm onto it, letting his lips press and nudge and explore her exposed skin.

She sighed, her eyes open, staring up at the stars while he coaxed such perfect feeling from her that she thought she would rise off the ground, soaring, flying. Her belly by now was writhing and twisting, crying out for something beyond reckoning.

The word left her lips unbidden, she was barely aware she had said it aloud: ‘More.’

He drew back, still holding her, still staring into her as if he would read her very soul. ‘Ma’am …’ he murmured, uncertainty in his voice.

‘More,’ she repeated, ‘please.’

And he was kissing her again and she knew that he wanted it as much as her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, that glorious hair which she had longed to touch and lose herself in for so long, now hers. She held him to her and kissed him as she imagined the perfect lover would kiss. For they were, were they not? Suddenly and completely – perfect lovers. And it was right.

He drew back again and she let her hands rest on the broad cut of his uniform where the gold braid curled up to his shoulders. He glanced about rapidly and said again, ‘Down here.’

Taking her hand, he pulled her down the steps behind him and under the balcony where there was a stone bench. Dark, silent, secret. Nobody would know. Nobody would guess.

Her heart pounded with exhilaration. Oh, but she was wicked! But instead of dread overcoming her, a slight laugh of delighted anticipation caught her. He could do with her what he would, for she was his and he hers and never had two people been so true to each other. Once there, he pulled her in and kissed her again as if she was his oxygen.

‘You wanted a present …’ he slurred, attaching himself to her neck again as she bared it for him.

‘Yes,’ she replied, clinging to him.

‘I will give you a present.’ His voice was lower than usual, richer and resonant, and in itself made her so heady with lust she thought she would faint.

He held her head, turning it so that his eyes seared into hers, even in the darkness enveloping them. ‘I will give you something, and you will take it and treasure it and love it. But you must never, ever speak of this to anyone for as long as you live, do you understand?’

She nodded, quickly, furtively.

‘Do you understand, Ma’am?’ he repeated, demanding a clear response.

‘Yes, yes, Lord M!’ She gripped onto his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he resisted.

‘What I will do for you … you must not fear, you must not worry. It will not hurt you and it will not get you with child.’

She blushed to hear this but nodded again in understanding.

‘But what happens between us now, you must take and keep only for you, only ever for you. Keep it safe in your heart until your dying day. Will you do that … Victoria?’

Her eyes were now damp with tears, tears of adoration and frustration and longing. She nodded again desperately.

‘Do you trust me? You must trust me,’ he insisted.

‘Yes, oh, yes!’

And he was back to kissing her, desperately, passionately, opening her mouth with his own, moaning his own need hot into her. But then, amidst this, he drew her down so that she sat on the bench, but instead of sitting beside her, he continued to slip down until he was kneeling on the ground before her. She wondered but waited. Trust.

He glanced up at her. Still the same beautiful face, but now he was dangerously handsome, his brows brooding, his expression dark.

‘Lean back.’ It was not a gentle request. She obeyed.

He brought his hands to her knees and she gasped to feel their strength and warmth even through her skirts. And then he was bunching the material in his fists and drawing it up, up, over her thighs, first her gown, and then her underskirts. She watched, entranced, unable to stop it even if she had wanted to. The cool night air wrapped its way around her exposed legs, clad only in the thin cotton of her stockings and drawers. Those warm hands, those long fingers, moved to the top of her thighs. He was staring up at her, his usual deference gone. That was no doubt who was sovereign now and it brought her such a heady sense of liberation that she gave a strange cry.

And he tugged. He was pulling off her drawers. And almost without knowing she lifted her hips to enable it. He guided the material down over her knees and off and there she was, exposed before him, her skirts in her lap, her stockings and shoes the only thing left on her legs. She waited for the shame to come. It did not.

‘What are you doing?’ she murmured, not out of apprehension but curiosity.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. His brought his hands back up to her thighs but then drew them slowly down, each touch firm and intoxicating. When he reached her knees he gently pulled, moving them apart. ‘I told you, trust me.’

Melbourne curled his fingers under her knees and pulled forward with surprising suddenness, causing her to gasp. The action brought her down the bench so that she was barely sitting on it. Then, his expression stern with intent, he pushed her legs yet further apart.

Victoria struggled to draw breath. All her energy, all her life force was focused between her legs, ripe, needy, and the fact that he was there, so perilously close, made rational thought impossible. Her mind tried to make sense of what would happen but could not.

And then his hands were back, sliding up her thighs, so agonisingly slowly she thought she would weep. Each touch of those certain, deliciously long fingers left an imprint on her skin, as if he trailed a warm precious oil as he went.

And he reached her, the heart of her, the place she had kept all for herself but had dreamt of him discovering. His thumb quested forward, tender but insistent, and touched the soft folds of her womanhood. She shuddered in a breath and held it. His eyes moved up to meet hers. She blushed, of course she did, but she did not break his stare.

‘Good girl,’ he murmured and a slight smile broke his mouth. He looked down to concentrate on what he was doing and the thumb of his other hand now rubbed along the other side.

‘Oh!’ she cried.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked but did not stop. He was opening her, stroking, higher and higher, to that exact place which evoked such curiosity in her, curiosity which she had always before been fearful of. But now, with her curiosity guided by him, she would take it all.

‘Yes, yes, I am so very alright. Don’t stop, don’t stop!’

He chuckled, just a slight, low laugh at her insistence. ‘Very well.’

And then he reached it. That place. That little nub of flesh. She sat upright and cried out as the most exquisite sensation dashed through her. She had touched it herself on occasion, by accident, and the strange, heavy tingling it wrought in her made her fearful. But when he touched it – as he was doing now, teasing, light, then hard – it was the most glorious, perfect thing.

‘Hm,’ he hummed, almost a grunt, as if confirming something to himself, and then, with utmost care, he held her open to him, and, as she watched with transfixed amazement, brought his head down.

‘Oh God!’ she cried, the first time a blasphemous word had crossed her lips, but this was not blasphemy; she called on her only means of making sense of it all.

He closed his mouth over that place and sucked on it and she bucked up into him, involuntarily, unable to control the whirl of exquisite feeling which darted through her and throbbed and pulsed at the point he was focused on. He drew himself off a little only to lick – long, slow licks from low down before sweeping up all she was, until he finished at that place again, trilling over it. She threw her head back and moaned, loud and long, although she herself did not hear it.

He continued, licking, sucking, darting his tongue to enthral and coax such brewing sensations from her that as she stared above her the stars were surely spinning. At one point he took hold of her right leg and lifted it so that it rested on his shoulder. She did not protest, she did not question, nstead she brought her hand down suddenly to his head and twined her fingers through the thick darkness of his hair. At this his efforts became more concerted and she gasped in suddenly as that ball of tension which had been turning and twisting inside primed itself more strongly than ever.

He drew back a little and she almost resented him for it. ‘You are so wet,’ he slurred and it sounded so very wicked that she tightened her grip on his scalp and gave him no means of moving away.

‘Go back, go back,’ she whined.

‘I take it you like it, Ma’am?’ She caught the smirk on his face.

‘I adore it, I adore it, my darling, my darling darling Lord M, don’t stop, please don’t stop it!’

So he dropped his head again and worked upon her so perfectly she was pure happiness. She was whining now, but it only increased his passion. He was utterly absorbed in her, but she was so emboldened that she guided him herself, working him on her as she bucked against him. ‘Oh there, just there. Oh, like that.’ How had she never known before that such wonders could be?

He glanced up briefly to draw breath and his face was lazy with a smile. ‘You are taking to this quite naturally, Ma’am.’

‘Oh, I adore it! I adore you.’ He dropped his head again. ‘Yes! Oh, that is so very good, Lord M! You are so very good!’

And at that he moaned against her, causing such delicious vibrations to shudder through her ripe, wet flesh that she gasped in bewilderment.

His right hand meanwhile stroked along her thigh, slow, steady, rhythmic, and his left pressed down onto her belly as if he feared she would escape, but it somehow made those feelings inside more concentrated than ever. She was barely aware but she was pressing herself against him, rocking her body, using all he was, taking all he gave her.

He licked, time and again. He sucked, hard, closing his lips over her and pulling, pulling her into him. And she couldn’t escape it and she didn’t want to and she wondered how it would end and never wanted it to end and …

‘Oh, Lord M! What … what is happening to me? Surely I will die!’

‘No, my darling girl. You are so very alive. Now come. Come for me.’ He was there on her again … and lips and tongue and him on her and …

She shattered. She broke but was complete.

Feeling.

She tried to breathe but didn’t need to. She tried to hold it but could not.

The sensation rolled and ripped its way through her, strong, incessant, and she held him against her all the while, curling her fingers through his hair, pushing him onto her, pushing herself onto him, her head back, her eyes closed, sheer abandon, perfect ecstasy ...

‘Oh … oh, Lord M!’

She stared above her, recovering her breath, focused on the stars as all else had vanished. She still felt him there. He remained, still on her, soothing, calming with little licks and nuzzles.

And then she sighed, a sigh of complete euphoric bliss. At that, he at last drew his head up and looked at her. She turned her head down and met his gaze. Victoria brought the back of her hand to her mouth and caught her knuckles between her teeth, smiling blearing through it. ‘What … what was that?’

‘I told you … my gift to you.’

‘But it was … it was … everything.’

‘I am glad to hear it, Ma’am.’ And he stood up, tugging down his clothes, running a hand through his hair to tidy it.

‘Lord M …’ She sat there, unsure she could ever move again. ‘I don’t … I don’t know what … Thank you.’

‘You are most welcome. More welcome than you could possibly imagine. I suppose …’ He glanced about and bent to pick up her drawers. ‘… you should probably put these back on.’

She laughed and held out her hands for them. He bent and helped her on with them then helped her stand up. She brushed her skirts back into place.

And then, slowly, once again, she coiled her arms about him and he bent to kiss her. She could taste her own ecstasy on him but they were so utterly as one that it only bound her to him yet more.

‘Must it end?’ she murmured as he kissed over her again.

‘It must.’ He drew back, letting his hands fall to her shoulders and adopting a more statesmanlike demeanour. ‘We must return, you have been absent too long. We must go back in separately, you first, and then I’ll follow by a different route.’

‘Lord M … I … I cannot …’ Tears pricked at her eyes.

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. ‘Ma’am, like I said, treasure it forever. Keep it in your bedside cabinet beside the telescope.’

She laughed a little and it dispelled her tears.

‘Very well. I shall go back.’ She straightened her back, rubbed the dampness from her face and said with clear determination, ‘Thank you, Lord M.’

He inclined his head but said no more, and, with effortless grace, she swept past him back into the castle.

\--xxoOoxx--

Victoria could sense her mother’s displeasure before the older lady had even noticed her approaching.

‘Drina! Where have you been? We have been searching for you!’

‘Oh, Mama,’ she tutted. ‘My body does have needs you know. Must I go into detail?’

‘Hmph. You have been drinking far too much champagne. You should not spend so long away from your guests.’

‘The evening is essentially over, Mama, and I am tired. I shall retire.’ At that, Victoria caught sight of a familiar figure walking sedately towards them from the opposite direction to where she had just come. ‘Oh, Lord M! I have not spoken to you all night! Whatever have you been doing with yourself?’

‘I apologise, Ma’am. But it has been a most fruitful evening. I have had many discussions and put in motion various ideas for the council.’

‘Oh. How thrilling that sounds,’ she responded flatly. ‘I am not sure I should be happy that you come to my birthday ball and spend all your time dealing with parliamentary matters and ignoring me!’

He inclined his head a little. ‘I am sorry, Ma’am.’

‘Drina, do not be so harsh on Lord Melbourne. He is a busy man. He cannot always be attending to you.’

Victoria let her eyes rise to her Prime Minister’s. He quirked an eyebrow. Both knew they had deceived her mother most admirably. The Duchess would be very happy to think Lord Melbourne had chosen to spend time away from her daughter.

‘I really must be leaving,’ he said. ‘It has been a most splendid evening, Your Majesty. Good night to you all.’

She smiled just for him. ‘Good night, Lord Melbourne. I shall see you with the dispatches tomorrow.’

‘Indeed.’ He inclined his head to her before turning to leave, but then remembered himself and looked back, fixing her with his eyes a final time before saying, ‘Oh, and … happy birthday, Ma’am.’

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are adored, thank you. And don't forget to join our Facebook group - For the Love of Vicbourne. We have rather a good time. ;-) x


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